“Oh. I see. Yes. I know Nora and Nathan will be fine. And—and thank you for coming with me today. I think I’ll just go do some shopping before I head home.”
Robbie lifted a brow. “And just how are you planning on getting back? We rode in together, remember?”
“I’ll run.”
“From town?”
“You said it’s only six miles.”
He looked down at her clothes. “You’re not dressed for that kind of running.”
“Yes, I am,” she told him, moving her jacket aside and peeling back the waist of her pants. “I’m wearing running shorts under my jeans.”
“Cat,” Robbie said softly. “You can’t hang around town just to be near your kids.”
She immediately ducked her head, which told Robbie his guess had been right on the mark.
“But I still want to run back.” The smile she gave him was rather provoking. “I might even beat you home.”
“Do you carry mace?”
“What?”
“Do you usually carry protection when you run?”
“No.”
“Are you crazy?”
She widened her smile. “I can outrun just about anyone. If someone bothers me, I’ll just head for the woods.”
Well, okay. She had a point there. But he was still going to pick her up a canister of mace, one with a clip, so she could clip it to her waistband.
“So you’ll run straight home? You won’t get lost?”
“Now who’s being a worry wart?” she teased, walking over to the truck.
And that was when Robbie’s jaw dropped—right along with her pants. She shed her jacket, boldly unfastened her jeans, kicked off her shoes, and stripped down to her bare legs. She tossed the jeans and shoes in the truck, then pulled out her backpack, found her running shoes, and—dammit to hell!—bent over to put them on.
Holy mother of God! Those shorts were barely legal when she bent over! To hell with the mace, Robbie decided, wiping a shaky hand over his face. He was buying the lady a gun.
No, that would pull her shorts down!
Guessing she was only about half a mile from home and feeling that she’d managed to run off most of her anxiety over being separated from her children, Catherine slowed from a steady jog down to a walk. She set her hands on her hips, panting to cool her body, and smiled at the feel of her pounding heart and quivering muscles. It felt good to be running again, notfrom someone buttoward something.
She had entered two marathons and over a dozen five-mile races in the last three years, even winning four of them. She was quite fast over short distances, but the twenty-six-mile marathons had nearly killed her.
But what hadn’t killed her had only made her stronger, she decided, watching her huffing breath puff ahead of her in the crisp spring air as she looked around. She liked this part of the country, she suddenly decided. It was rugged and stunningly beautiful, with its granite cliffs, towering spruce and pine trees, and misty-topped mountains.
It was also a six-mileuphill run from town.
Catherine finally caught sight of the driveway to her new home, not because she spotted the mailbox but because Robbie MacBain, mounted on horseback, was waiting at the end of it.
Had he truly been worried about her?
He’d certainly been startled when she had stripped off her jeans. The guy had looked positively dumbstruck, though Catherine wasn’t sure if it had been because she was going running or because he’d just discovered she had legs.
“I’m impressed,” he said as she approached. “You made good time, especially considering it’s all uphill.”
Catherine pulled her ponytail free and worked her fingers through her hair to reshape it, tying it back off her heated neck. “I hope there’s plenty of hot water, because I’m going to need a thirty-minute shower. I’m out of shape.”
“Really?” he hummed, turning his horse to walk beside her up the driveway. “I hadn’t noticed. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“For the most part,” she told him, looking up with a frown. “All except for those darn logging trucks. They kept blowing their air horns at me. There’s no reason they can’t share the road.”
He muttered something she couldn’t make out as he twisted in his saddle, pulled a jacket off the back, and tossed it down to her. “Why don’t you put this on?” he suggested. “Before you catch a chill.”
Catherine set the heavy wool coat over her shoulders, noticing that it came down to her knees. “Are you going back up the mountain to visit the priest?” she asked, nodding at his horse.
“Aye. That’s why I waited for you. To tell you I won’t be home tonight.”
“All night?”
“Aye. Daar’s not feeling well, and I thought I should stay with him. I’ll be back shortly after sunrise, though. Do you have a problem dealing with the boys on your own this evening?”
“No,” she said as she climbed the porch stairs. She stepped over to the porch rail and turned to him. “How do I get Nathan and Nora from school?”
“Take my truck. The keys are in it.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid your car can’t be saved, Cat. The engine seized. We could put in a new one, but that would only be throwing good money after bad. You should be able to get two hundred dollars for it, though, from the scrap yard.”
Catherine sighed, took off the coat he’d lent her, and held it over the rail to him. “I was afraid of that. Thank you for bringing it back. Ah, can you take the cost of the towing out of my pay?”
He urged his horse up to the rail and took the coat from her. “It didn’t cost us anything and was a good exercise for the boys.”
“Then I’ll thank them tonight by making a special dessert.”
“You’ll save me some?”
Catherine canted her head. “You have a bad sugar addiction, Mr. MacBain. Have you spoken to a doctor about it?”
He leaned over in his saddle, getting quite close, and Catherine forced herself to stand firm and not back away. And if he tapped her on the nose again, by God, she was going to tap him back.
“There are worse vices, Cat,” he said softly.
She was disappointed when he straightened away from her. Darn it. Just when she’d worked up the nerve, too.
“My father’s number is by the phone. His name is Michael. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call him, okay?”
Catherine nodded.
“My foreman’s name is Harley. His number is also posted. But Gunter can deal with him for you.”
“He’s a smart kid,” Catherine said, thinking of how the young man had distracted Nora this morning.
“Aye. If only he’d come to that conclusion himself,” Robbie said as his horse fidgeted away. “I’ll be back shortly after sunrise,” he added, giving the horse its head and breaking into a canter toward the woods. “Sleep well tonight, Cat,” he called over his shoulder.
And just like that, he was gone. Catherine stood at the rail, staring at the woods where he’d disappeared, and rubbed her right index finger against her thumb. What would he have done if she’d tapped his nose? Probably fallen off his horse!
But how would he have taken her gesture? As a pass? An invitation for something more?
Maybe a kiss?
Oh, what would it be like to be kissed by Robbie MacBain?
She remembered Winter sitting in his lap this morning. The young woman had looked comfortable. Protected. Cherished.
Catherine knew all men were not like Ron Daniels. Some of them were actually nice.
Was Robbie MacBain?
Chapter Eleven
Things had gonerather smoothly this morning, since her two children were eager to go to school. Robbie still wasn’t home yet, but everyone else had been fed and rushed out the door, and Catherine was now bringing up the rear of the impromptu parade marching down the driveway.